Of Debate and Comfort Zones: My Experience – Kiragorn Promma

          I think one of the main reasons I took up debate was for the alpacas. Debate is funny, since you actually have to speak, often in public, against some other unfortunate candidate of the opposite team, elaborating in detail why you seriously, very truly and absolutely believe in something you actually probably don’t, and why their stance is seriously, very truly and absolutely wrong. I did not very much like the notion of public speaking, and avoided it as much as possible. One particularly miserable Thursday during my seventh-grade career, the teacher in charge of the debate club took me aside and told me to come to the debate meeting, “just to scout things out”, since I was relatively new to the school, and he “believed [in my] potential, from what [he’d] seen in class”. Resisting the urge to hurl myself screaming out of the window, I resigned myself to this untimely incarceration in what I assumed would be the hell that was the debate club meeting; no doubt – considering my complete inability to protest anything thrust upon me by smiling people who insisted on my great competency – after attending this, I would very likely have to join. So I listened intently to their meeting, and wondered what good would come out of joining. They brought out the alpaca plushies.

          It may seem incomprehensible to anyone other than the debate tournament organizers why a stuffed toy alpaca would be enough reason for any awkward prepubescent humans to ever exit the safety of their comfort zone and enter the anxiety-fueled nightmare that was debate. But by the hairs of the Three Little Pigs’ chinny-chin-chin, it worked. I was sold, packaged, and ready to be launched at the first person who looked at me wrong. Or so I thought. As it turned out, I was very badly underestimating the difference between someone who knew what they were doing and someone who had joined for the alpacas (namely: me). During the practice sessions after school, I was annihilated by a sixth-grade kid who essentially served as the smart aleck of his grade. We had been having a single message debate (in which we were only allowed one-line replies against each other; the debate student executives thought this would reduce the amount of dignity shattering), and before I could conceive of a response that was anything smarter than: “uh”, someone already volunteered to answer after me and quickly took over. There were about 5 weeks left for me to train. So I did.

          I attended practice regularly (which was held on Thursdays), and avoided clashing with the sixth grader as much as possible; this proved to be an issue, as, in the same manner in which a lone juvenile diplodocus is fated to be cornered by the notorious and scientifically-proven-to-have-(not-)existed asteroid-saurus, I kept being pitted against him and being utterly eviscerated in every occasion. I did not let this shatter my spirit, however, and kept at debate. To cope with this evil creature ostensibly intent on destroying me, I would mutter something about his extremely pathetic height to myself every time I was sulking in the bathroom. It generally helped. But I digress from the purpose of this essay. In the essence, I trained a lot. I learnt debating techniques meant to put me above other competitors. I grew a deep understanding of teamwork and the art of backing up your team members when they accidentally reveal that they have no understanding of the topic whatsoever and being backed up by said team members when it is your turn to collapse while speaking. Despite my initial ideas, this training actually allowed me to learn cooperation, and over all else communication skills (for without such skills teamwork would be impossible, and your defeat would be inevitable), through the constant exercise of my speaking skills and a consistent honing of not beat down on each other for occasionally being extremely bad at debate.

          Eventually, the day of the actual tournament came. I felt invincible. Like a weathered, war-hardened shounen manga protagonist, I stared down at the competition and fell down flat. Unsurprisingly, under pressure, my intelligence deserted me and all composure fled to the hills. I was consoled by one of my teammates as we prepared for the first round, while contemplating the stark irony in which I was forced to team up with the sixth grader who 5 weeks ago had so violently crushed me into the ground (the aforementioned sixth grader was currently in the midst of describing to us the many ways in which he was expecting us to fail him). With much effort, coupled with slight delirium, I followed my team into the debate room. It was small, much smaller than I had expected. Other than the opposing team, who seemed to be similarly having a minor nervous breakdown, there was an audience of three. One of them was a judge, and the other two were people I presumed to be the paramedics on standby to swoop in and carry off panic-stricken debaters who had lost their will to live. The judge then introduced himself, and listed the rules of procedure. We were allotted a short research period of 15-20 minutes before the debate, and after receiving the motion (I recall it was something about if parents should be forgiven for anything wrong they may have done), we could then use the internet to begin preparing for the inevitable.

          Following that, the actual debating began. I was given the duty of being the third speaker, which meant I sat on a chair and pretended to listen intently to the debate while thinking of cool one-liner rebuttals to hit the opponents with when it was my turn to speak. While my teammates constructed the framework of the debate based on the notes we had cooperated together to scrap together in our limited time, I began to realize that my fears may have been very slightly irrational. The actual debate itself was not in any way too stressful, and I began to believe that it had all been in my mind. This changed when it was my turn to speak. I had gotten off to a good start but began to stammer towards one of my particularly important rebuttals. It was a painful experience. I felt my intelligence draining. After hastily wrapping up my ideas, I returned to my seat and the judge generously announced after some delay that, in summary, we were kind of bad and that led to us losing. We were, it seemed, off to a rough start. What I had not expected, however, was how unbothered my teammates were. To a certain degree of astonishment from me, they told me everything was fine, and that we had just started; they told me to keep calm and focus on the debate (yes, even the hate-fueled demon-child from the 6th layer of the big fiery place). After some intense deliberation, my brain cells reached a consensus and agreed to throw self-doubt out the window for the next two hours.

          Things progressed quickly after that however, and I gradually adjusted myself to it. We won the next debate, and the one that followed that. All the while, I began to better understand my position in the team, and after recovering from my brain’s initial shutdown, found that by building on and linking back my teammate’s ideas back to the larger question, I could increase our team’s synergy and turn the tides of the debate. Naturally, I was overjoyed at this revelation, and spent the remaining time convincing myself I was the most intelligent lifeform on the planet since E.T.. By the time the awards ceremony rolled around and we received the few medals and alpacas, oh yes, the alpacas we were allowed to receive, I was ready to conquer the intellectual discourse of international politics. I was immediately, of course, put down by the sixth grader yet again over a minor issue, but unlike our previous clashes, he went out of his way to tell the both of us that “for first timers, [we] didn’t do that badly” in a patronizing voice that made me want to elbow him in the face. The most irritating part of it was how much I appreciated it.

          In summary, by stepping out of my comfort zone (for alpacas) and entering the debate tournament, I was able to grow as a person. I developed valuable communication and cooperation skills I may have otherwise never gotten around to improving and discovered my capability to adapt and solve problems logically as they appeared, despite the hitches my team and I encountered along the way. In retrospect, this academic experience would pave the way for my further growth in academics, and even as a person; debate would lead me to further activities which I would much enjoy and cherish. I suppose, in conclusion, that I owe my growth to the alpacas. Thank you, alpacas.

Rubric-based evaluation across four domains: Content, Refutation, Structure, Style

Recognition

Badge + certificate awarded at each level, with progression guidance

Mid-term Simulation

Adjudicator simulation (students assess each other)